


Goodnight, Hajime

by rosarmio



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Background Pekoyama Peko, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, He also gets into a fight, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko Swears, M/M, an extremely one sided fight, fuyuhiko cant swim, other characters are there too just background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosarmio/pseuds/rosarmio
Summary: The decision to punch Hajime felt like a good one ‘bout five seconds ago. Now, you have this pit in your stomach as you listen to the deafening silence of the cafeteria.***Fuyuhiko can't comprehend emotions that aren't anger, especially when that emotion is love.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Goodnight, Hajime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gonta_gokuhara_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonta_gokuhara_lover/gifts).



> written for my s/o but also slightly for myself because , well , me too , fuyu

The decision to punch Hajime felt like a good one ‘bout five seconds ago. Now, you have this pit in your stomach as you listen to the deafening silence of the cafeteria. 

To be entirely honest, Hajime Hinata was gettin’ on your goddamned nerves a minute ago, so you ain’t even blaming yourself for wantin’ to punch him. 

You’ve known him for a hot fuckin’ second, but lately, he’s really been pissin’ you off. 

Hajime wipes his nose as it bleeds all over him. That’s what he gets. That’s what he gets for… for… for pissin’ you off, of course! Get this, he doesn’t even speak. Doesn’t say a fuckin’ word to you after you just knocked his shit. Pussy, that’s what he is, a fucking pussy. 

A gentle hand is placed on your shoulder. “Young Master,” Peko whispers, “may I ask, what was that for?” 

You tense up, looking back over at Hajime. Your stomach does flips and you wanna throw up. You’re hot, dizzy, too. That asshole. Sweat drips down your forehead. 

This is ridiculous. Why do you feel bad for this guy now? He’s not even hurt or angry or sad. He’s just standin’ there like a fuckin’ prick while drops of blood tap against the floor as they fall from his nose. 

“Just felt like it,” you respond under your breath. Peko nods and walks away. She seems to understand what you don’t. 

Why the fuck did you even punch him?

Sure, he’s been pissin’ you off, but why? He hasn’t done anything wrong. You’re sure he musta done somethin’, but what?

Your peers clear out of the cafeteria, all but Hajime, who just stands where he’s been this whole time, lookin’ at you like you’re some sorta freak. 

“The hell do you want, goddamnit?” you scream at him, and he steps back a bit, but has no reaction other than that. 

He does that stupid thing where he scratches his neck and looks off to the side. His lips turn up to a smile, and he gives you a confused laugh. “I’m just wondering why you punched me. I didn’t do anything to you.”

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Like hell he hasn’t done anything to you. He’s been makin’ you feel all queasy every time he’s in the same room as you. Even when people talk ‘bout him you get this weird sick feelin’. 

He’s been doin’ something to you, you just ain’t got an idea of what the fuck it is. 

You walk toward him, step by step until you’ve got him backed against a table. You push a finger into his chest and spit, “How the fuck you been makin’ me get sick, you son of a bitch?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about Fuyuhiko.”

You grab his tie, pulling him down to your height as you snarl at the mother fucker. His face goes red and his eyes go wide and your stomach drops. 

A slideshow flashes through your mind. All these stupid fuckin’ images of Hajime. Hajime shirtless, Hajime laughing, Hajime napping on the beach, Hajime worked up ‘n flustered and 

You swing your fist back, smashing it back into his face. He’s on the ground, you’re on top of him, beating your fists into his chest over and over. “Fuck you! You stupid son of a bitch! Fuck you!” 

The punches become less and less heated, and eventually, you’re slouched over onto his chest, sobbing as you shakily pound your weak fists against him. God, fuck. Why are you crying? You have no fuckin’ business crying. 

Why is Hajime hugging you? His arms are wrapped around you as you sob into his chest and his nose is bleeding still and why is that mother fucker comforting you?

“Uh, Fuyu? Are you okay?” 

His voice is hoarse, he’s probably in pain. That’s your fault. Shit. You shouldn’t have punched him. Fuck. Why are you so goddamn upset? 

You start to realize why as you feel his hands rubbing against your back to comfort you. As he lets out these shushing sounds, and tells you, “It’s gonna be alright, Fuyu”. He pulls out of the hug and wipes your tears. 

His eyes are this majestic amber. You could get lost in ‘em. They remind you of safety. 

“I’ve got you, okay?” His voice reminds you of a fresh breeze on a hot day. It’s playful in a weird way. Awkward in a way that’s refreshing and pure. 

His hands are soft. He has ridiculously soft hands. Yours aren’t soft at all. They’re tough, marked with scars. You wonder if he would like them anyway.

You think about his laugh. It’s sweet. A kind, happy laugh that makes you want to join in. 

That’s when you realize why you’re upset. This realization hits you hard and

“Fuck.” 

Hajime is taken aback by your sudden cursing. “Oh, uh, are you alri-,” he starts, and you pull out of the hug and away from him. 

“I am… an asshole goddamn. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I should not ‘ve punched you.” You stand, pacing. Fuck. How the fuck are you gonna get him to forgive you after that? He’s gonna think you’re a fuckin’ dick. 

He stands up as well, and you notice his eye bruising. His nose and lip are still pouring out blood and the dumb fuck doesn’t even pay that any mind. “No it’s fine I-,” he starts again, but you know he’s just saying that.

You press your hand against your forehead, thinking. “How the fuck am I gonna make this up to you?” You look back up at him, and he’s got a raised eyebrow and cocked head. “I’ll do anythin’ Hajime. Lemme make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to, man. Seriously it’s fine.”

How can he say that? He’s bleeding all over his shirt and shoes and he’s a fucking mess and yet still he’s so goddamn fucking attractive with blood pouring down his face somehow. 

Stomping up to him, you look at his bruising around his eye once more. That’s gonna be swollen tomorrow, you think. He’s gonna have a black eye and it’s your fuckin’ fault.

“I swear to god Hajime what the fuck do you want me to do? I’ll literally do anything to make up for this I swear.” 

Hajime sighs in exasperation and shakes his head. “I’m not mad. You don’t need to do anything.”

“Punch me.” The words come out before you can think about it. 

“What? No, I’m not gonna-”

You grab his tie once again, now stained with blood, and bring him down to eye level with you. “Fucking punch me.” 

There’s a regretful look in his eyes that tells you he’s going to follow your demand. You let go of his tie just in time for his fist to collide with your face. Your eyes water and you’re surprised at how hard he hit you. 

“I’m sorry that was really rude of me I shouldn’t have-”

You cut him off, “Shut the fuck up.”

Seems like interrupting Hajime might become a new hobby of yours. Whenever you do it, he gets all flustered and blushy and it’s actually really attractive. His eyes go wide and he starts to stammer.

“Uh… Sorry. Sorry, I guess.”

You send him a glare. “Now, I’ll ask again, the fuck do you want me to do to make up for it?”

Hajime steps back again. His eyebrows fly up and his mouth hangs open for a moment. “Wh- What? I thought that was it.”

“Don’t make me make you punch me again, asshole!”

“Fine, uh… carry my stuff down to the beach and back for me later today, I guess! Shit, is that enough?” Hajime cries out in frustration, and you sigh, accepting.

***

Later that day, Hajime, Sonia, Gundham, and Chiaki are all going to the beach together, and Hajime knocks on your door. When you open it, he’s carrying nothing but a towel, already in his swim trunks. You do your best not to stare at his chest and fail. 

“Hey, uh, we’re going down to the beach now. You wanted to, or wait no, you have to carry my towel for me. Get your swim trunks, c’mon.” 

When the fuck did swimming with him become part of the deal?

And when the fuck did you agree? Because now you’re walking down to the beach with the group in your swim shorts, listening to Chiaki talk to Hajime about a video game she wants to play with him.

The sand feels nice though. You haven’t actually come down here yet. The sun is blazing down on your face, but it feels nice compared to being cooped up in your cottage. 

You decide to sit down in the sand and watch as Sonia and Gundham make a sandcastle while Chiaki looks for shells. Hajime is elbow-deep in the water already. He calls out to you, “Fuyuhiko! Come on, join me!”

“No fuckin’ way!”

He smiles, you can see that stupid fucking smile all the way from the beach. “Aw, c’mon! Don’t you wanna make it up to me?” He pretends to pout.

Crossing your arms, you sigh. You’re not admitting to this fucker that you can’t swim. Well, you can, technically. But you can’t. You can keep yourself afloat in dire situations but that’s the most of it. 

Hajime has a float with him, though. A bright red circular tube, like a donut. If you can just make it out there, maybe you can snatch it from him. 

You tread into the water, small waves crashing against your shins, knees, hips, chest, until you’re out to where Hajime is. He’s laughing at you, and you can feel your face heating up, fluste

Angry. You’re angry. Not flustered. You’re pissed that you’ve been put into this situation. You’re pissed that Hajime is laughing at you. You’re pissed that his hand is on your shoulder and

His… hand is on your shoulder. He’s smiling and his eyes are closed and he’s just… holy shit. He reminds you of the sun, he’s so bright, and warm. You feel comfortable. You’re never comfortable and yet here you are.

“I’m glad you decided to join me,” he says with a grin. Your heart does this weird girly thing and you hate it. Gross. 

You grunt, and steal his floating tube. “Whatever, I can barely touch out here.” You jump into it and sit down. What you down expect is for him to join you, sitting on the opposite side, your knees against each other, the two of you face to face. “This shit ain’t big enough for us both, Hajime. Hop off.”

“I brought it out here! You can share, jeez,” he teases. You can feel his presence, so close to you on this tiny float, he’s warm. Warmer than the sun itself. 

The tube starts to lean down in his direction, since he is… taller than you and likely weighs more. You’re worried he may fall in, and you go to grab him, just when he leans toward you, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your chest.

He looks up at you, and you’re so close that the waves even make your noses brush against each other. “Sorry. I uh, guess I should lean a bit closer to you, that way I don’t fall in.” He laughs and you can literally feel it. 

Shit. He’s got pretty eyes. Like honey or caramel. 

“Whatever,” you grumble, ignoring that same feeling in your stomach. 

The two of you float for a while. Hajime talks, you listen and give witty banter. It’s nice. But eventually the sun begins to set, and you’re walking back on shore. 

Hajime’s hand is warm against your shoulder as you lean down to grab his towel so you can take it back for him. “No worries, I can get it. See you tomorrow, Fuyuhiko.”

Running up to catch up with the rest of his friends, you hear him shouting jokes to them. It’d be nice, you think, to have friends like that. To be able to joke around and have a good time, to have people who care about you. 

Who gives a fuck. That shit doesn’t even matter. You trudge up to your cottage, feeling lonelier than when you came. 

After a day of swimming and fighting and walking and crying, your bed feels more comfortable than usual as you finally fall onto it. You’re ready for sleep. That’s all you want at this point.

But a knock at your door startles you, and you groan as you get up to answer it. “The hell do you want?” you ask, the door creaking as it opens, and Hajime stands there, wide eyed and flushed for no reason. “Wh- Oh.”

He flashes an awkward smile. “I didn’t really get to say goodnight to you at the beach.”

“What? You moron, that-”

His lips are on yours, just for a moment, but they’re soft, and it’s nice. It feels safe. You feel good. It ends too soon. 

You’re left speechless. He just grins and walks off. “Goodnight, Fuyu!”

The door shuts. You lie down on your bed all giddy and stupid like a girl who saw a picture of her celebrity crush in a magazine. 

Shit, your face is hot. 

His joyful eyes and warm smile and the tender feeling of his lips against your own play over and over through your mind. 

“Goodnight, Hajime.”


End file.
